


All Romance Ends in Despair

by viceversa



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Insecure Lassie, M/M, Relationshippy Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25343104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: “I want you to listen to me O’Hara, and believe this because I meant it from the bottom of my heart. All romance ends in despair.”- Lassiter, S4.E12 A Very Juliet EpisodeIt was a wonder that Shawn ever looked twice at him after insulting him and constantly outsmarting him, and it was only a matter of time until it all went to hell. Better a few weeks of a good thing ending quickly on his own terms instead of drawn out heartbreak. Right?
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 22
Kudos: 226





	All Romance Ends in Despair

\- - -

_“I want you to listen to me O’Hara, and believe this because I meant it from the bottom of my heart. All romance ends in despair. Or death, but mostly despair. Gut-wrenching despair. And I hate to say this but I’m actually happy that this happened because now you know, and it’s just going to make you a better cop to realize that all people are essentially just out there to destroy any chance of happiness you would ever have.”_

\- S4.E12 A Very Juliet Episode 

\- - -

He was either going to run, or he was going to cheat. 

That was the conclusion Lassiter came to three weeks into his new relationship with one fake psychic detective, Shawn Spencer. Well, _relationship_ may be stretching it. They ate food, they had sex, and occasionally they were nice to each other. 

It felt way too easy to be a real relationship. It was going too well, which meant something was about to go catastrophically wrong, and Lassiter was trying to prepare for the shit to hit the fan. It always did. In the list of relationships that he’d had in his life lasting past one date (if it lasted that long, anyway) he could usually figure out how they would crash and burn before it happened. 

Call it his detective instincts. Call it learning from experience. Call it crippling self-doubt that usually turned out to be accurate. 

Some of his past lovers ran; just disappeared and stopped answering calls. Ghosted, the kids called it these days. 

A few cheated on him, and when he caught them they just shrugged and went on with their life without him in it. 

Two, significantly, ended in screaming matches, things thrown around rooms, and an everlasting, gut-wrenching despair. Victoria was one of those, though their marriage drew the despair out for years, all to its bitter end. 

The other was Aaron, who he met in college, and who subsequently broke his heart into a billion pieces and tap danced over the wreckage. 

Ultimately, everyone left. Lovers left out of boredom or the realization of who they were with (him). Family left because unconditional love is not ingrained into humanity. Friends left because they got better offers to be around better people. 

It made sense to Lassiter, really. After all his years as a human and as a cop, he’d seen and experienced it all - relationships on every level of commitment and society turning to deceit and murder. 

People had sex then they killed each other, and that was just how life went. 

True love was a capitalist lie made to sell movies and cards on Valentine’s Day. He was all for the free market, but lying about hope was just cruel. Everyone eventually learned their lesson, some just learned it earlier than others. 

He pegged Shawn as a runner or a cheater not out of meanness or distrust, per se. Just reality and profiling.

Spencer has a history of dropping interests and moving to something else without a care for what he left behind. The only thing he took remotely seriously was his detective work (if one could call it work, really) and his friendship with Guster. Shawn even told him of his long string of two or three date “relationships” before moving on during their third date (a John Hughes movie marathon on Lassiter’s couch. They made it through _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ and halfway through _Pretty in Pink,_ which is the most pointless movie Lassiter had ever seen, before Shawn finished the popcorn and turned to straddle him. Not that Lassiter complained.) 

Guster was his only long term relationship, and while Lassiter suspected a certain degree of brainwashing there, he still respected their bond. They were two opposite types of weird that just clicked and stayed together against all sorts of odds. A friendship with Spencer was a powerful thing, and he knew that Guster was a part of the deal when he got into it with Spencer. 

A man gets to choose his friends, and the important thing with friendship is that he can have distance from them. Lassiter had people he would call acquaintances from his hobbies, and his friendships were fewer - O’Hara topping the list of most trusted. 

In a romantic relationship, however, things were different. It meant more commitment, more time in one another’s spaces, making it much harder to take a break without just breaking it off. Passion could flare and dissipate with a snap, and people moved on to brighter pastures. 

If they didn’t end up murdering each other first, that is. 

Lassiter was tired of it, honestly. He had a good thing going for a long time with the status quo at the station, and this... dalliance, threw a wrench in it all. 

When he and Spencer inevitably blew up, his career would suffer for it. The chief would be disappointed in him for upsetting her star consultants (even if it won’t be entirely his fault), his partner would assume he’d done something wrong, and every cop that Spencer has wrapped around his finger at the station would make his life a living hell. Not to mention he’d probably face the wrath of Henry in one way or another. 

He thought that maybe he should get on the front end of this - make the end of them have a soft landing and smooth transition back to reluctant work colleagues, or if he was being optimistic, friends.

That’s what they’d been before, just barely. He and Spencer got past their hate and saw mutual respect and then suddenly it transformed from pushing him into walls out of anger to kissing Shawn in an alleyway just out of sight of a crime scene where he’d nearly been killed. 

That settled the plan. He’d look out for the signs of Shawn getting antsy and be the one to pull away first. He’d make it mutual and easy, and they could just go back to the way things were in public. 

In private, Lassiter made sure to stock up on good scotch. Because the really tragic part of all of this - of the oncoming heartbreak - was that he actually liked Spencer. Like, really liked him in a… wanting to wake up next to him every morning kind of way. 

After he got mostly past the rage that Spencer incited in him in the beginning - from lying about being psychic, out-smarting him in cases, and being an all around annoyance and dick - he saw that whatever Spencer did, however he did it, it was extraordinary. That he didn’t stop, even when literally everyone was against him. And especially when he stupidly put his own life on the line to save someone else. 

Intelligence and bravery were attractive qualities in a man, and Shawn added charm and humor to both in a way that astounded Lassiter to no end. 

The man could attract a crowd of strangers and entrance them with his jokes and wit. Everyone liked him, hell, even some of the criminals he caught laughed at his jokes while being handcuffed. 

There was no way that he would stay with someone like Lassiter for more than a lark. An item to be crossed off a list. He didn’t have anything special to offer. Lassiter was self-aware enough to know that his hobbies were boring and obscure, and that his free time was nonexistent because he was a workaholic. 

It was a wonder that Shawn ever looked twice at him after insulting him and constantly outsmarting him, and it was only a matter of time until it all went to hell. 

Better a few weeks of a good thing ending quickly on his own terms instead of drawn out heartbreak. Right?

\- - -

Their first time was chaotic. Of course it was - any moment spent with Shawn Spencer descended into chaos. But that night was intense. 

After he’d grabbed Spencer and pulled him into that alley and finally gave in to the pressing urge to kiss him instead of yelling at him, he had to go back to the scene and finish processing. 

It was torture. 

Spencer had disappeared after giving his statement, and Lassiter had no idea if he was about to get hit with an assault charge or if they’d never speak of it again. The wrapping up of the case distracted him enough to make it through the day.

Then he went home and Shawn was there, in his living room, waiting for him.

It was a standoff. Shawn rose from the couch and squared up with Lassiter in his living room, and Lassiter was bracing to get punched. He remembered flinching just slightly when Spencer advanced but then he was being kissed, really kissed, full on passionate making out kissed. 

It was an ecstasy of fumbling, running into walls, hands running up and down bodies and grabbing handfuls of each other and not thinking. 

The talk that night was relegated to _Yes, god yes, more, oh my God don’t stop._

And it didn’t stop. When he woke the next morning, aching and mildly sticky, he wasn’t alone. In fact, Shawn was staring at him, half draped over his body and smiling. 

Before he could say anything, Shawn leaned in and captured his lips in a short kiss. Lassiter was speechless when he broke away, still processing _Shawn Spencer naked in his bed._

“Don’t freak out,” Shawn had said in a raspy morning voice that Lassiter responded to instantly. 

Lassiter remembered rolling his eyes and lying. “I’m not going to freak out. Are you?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “I’ll only freak out if we don’t do this again and again for the foreseeable future. Agree?”

Lassiter had sighed heavily at that, beyond relieved that it wasn’t a one-off, that he bared repeating nights with. Then he smiled. 

“Yeah.”

And that had been the whole conversation. The rest of that morning involved cursing at the time, a quick fumbling in a shared shower, and racing to get to the precinct. 

\- - -

The weeks that followed felt... normal. Good, even. Lassiter fell into a new routine with Shawn, a part of his everyday life. One that he looked forward to. But he had a creeping feeling that their time together was drawing to a close in a significant way. It was too easy. Too fragile. 

The more he thought about it, if he was right about Spencer, whatever happened to end this would be sudden and then everything would immediately turn upside down. The switch in Shawn’s ADHD-run brain will flip and he’d be gone. 

Lassiter didn’t want the end to be a hot blonde or some epiphany about spending his life with a cop, so at just shy of the two month mark, he tried to start backing away. 

It was a delicate plan. Navigating the end of a relationship to end mutually before it imploded was something he hadn’t tried before, but he couldn’t let it ruin everything. Lassiter would rather have his old life back than see his current one catch fire. 

He started skipping out on dinner invitations. He also stopped going over to Shawn’s apartment and didn’t clearly invite him to his. But it barely worked - Shawn just started showing up more often at his place, usually with food and a movie, which led to sex and sleeping over. 

Phase two of his plan involved being a standoffish asshole at work. That wasn’t an entirely new activity for him, but he really ramped it up. 

When Spencer’s antics bordered on interesting or even - _sweet justice forbid_ \- endearing, he would repress his natural half-smirk and stop listening. A few times he even left the room or had Spencer taken away from the crime scene.

But still, it had little impact on their time spent together. Shawn would just ask if he was okay and give him a shoulder rub and make a dumb joke, and suddenly they’d be on the couch just… leaning on each other and watching reruns of _Gunsmoke_ because Shawn knew it was his comfort show. 

His plan wasn’t working. In fact, it seemed to be backfiring. Shawn was spending even _more_ time with Lassiter off-duty. They learned little things and habits about each other. They even went grocery shopping together, and Lassiter barely made a fuss when three pineapples landed in his cart. 

\- - -

Lassiter was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well in days, and the tension from work and this thing with Shawn was eating away at him. He had gone over his current case from a dozen different angles, backward and forward, and it had gotten nowhere. Something had to give.

So Lassiter pushed further on the Shawn problem. Too far, perhaps. _Way_ too far.

On that particular day, the fake psychic was performing loudly and annoyingly in the middle of the station - to the point where Lassiter was genuinely annoyed. 

The robbery case they were working was political and very public, and Shawn had a bad habit of embarrassing and accusing everyone involved while trying to solve it, which made Lassiter’s job and life more difficult. 

He was also on a great cocktail of very little sleep, no food, and barely enough caffeine to keep standing. There was a sharp headache lurking just behind his eyes, ready to strike. 

Shawn was going on some rant about precious jewels, in a high pitched singing voice. 

“The spirits feel... they feel fancy! Oh so fancy! And they feel fancy and schmancy and... accuse-y!”

“I think you mean accusatory,” chimed in Guster. 

“Yes! The spirits are very clearly pointing to - “ 

The headache took its chance and struck. Lassiter nearly swayed at his desk with the force of it, fueled by frustration and exhaustion. 

“Shut up, Spencer.”

“Lassie, it is not I who is loud, ‘tis the spirits! I am but a humble channel-er to their whims! They cannot be silenced!” 

Lassiter dropped his head into his hands, his headache beginning to pound behind his eyes. “Neither can you,” he muttered. 

“Oh Lassie-Face, don’t be a Jealous Janet!” Shawn then poked his shoulder. “The spirits tell me that you secretly respect them, and that you need to change your Brita filter.”

Getting no response, he poked him again. Then he shoved him a little, and that’s when Lassiter snapped. 

“Do the spirits also tell you how everyone breathes a sigh of relief once your circus act is done for the day?” He stood up and turned to Spencer and stared him down, not caring about how close they were standing together. He was at the end of his rope.

“Do they tell you that you're nothing more than a parlor trick? That you’re only here because you can’t hold down a job that any normal idiot could? But no, you’re an extra-special kind of idiot!”

“Now, Lassie,” Shawn started. 

Later, Lassiter would remember his response being quiet, but in the moment he was blinded by rage. His wires got crossed, and whatever intention he had to push Shawn away went overboard. Loudly. 

“You know what the spirits tell me, Spencer? You’re nothing! You’re not helpful, you’re not a detective, you’re not a psychic. What you are is just a pathetic attention whore with daddy issues, hell-bent on ruining my life!” 

His own voice was still echoing when he realized he went too far. Way too far - to the point of shocking the station into silence. 

All eyes were on him when Lassiter saw the very genuine flash of hurt on Shawn’s face just before the shock faded, and he felt every bit the gigantic ass that he was. 

“Spencer...” he started. 

“No, Lassie, you’re right,” Shawn cut him off in a flat voice. Guster stood behind him in solidarity. “The spirits tell me that you’ll solve the case soon if you take another look at the witness statements regarding the daughter.”

Then, in the quiet of everyone watching, Shawn and Gus made their way out of the station. 

\- - -

Spencer was right. Lassiter used to hate that he was right all the time, and eventually that turned to acceptance and even something he counted on, but right then he hated that Spencer was right but that he wasn’t there to gloat about it. 

The daughter orchestrated the theft for the insurance buyout because her father was threatening to cut her off financially. The witnesses were the ones who helped. And Shawn was _right_. 

It took two hours to figure that out and verify it, then another four to track down their suspects, get them to confess, record their statements, and process them. 

It was nearly midnight when he left the station, too tired to get food on the way home.

Home. Ugh. Lassiter was not looking forward to his empty, Shawn-less apartment. It had been a shitty day, and a few weeks ago he would’ve been happy to have Shawn around him so he didn’t go to sleep feeling awful and tense. 

It’s not that he would admit to being a cuddler, but the nights he had a warm body in the shape of Shawn Spencer wrapped around him were some of the most restful he’d ever had. 

His whole plan was flawed. He knew that the second he saw the look on Shawn’s face. Carlton Lassiter hadn’t had a lot of joy in his life, so he could admit that it wasn’t easy recognizing it, much less trying to hold on to it. He was so wrapped up in curbing the fallout that he couldn’t try to make the good part last. 

He was an idiot, plain and simple, and he had to figure out how to make it up to Shawn. 

Lassiter parked and nearly slumped into the steering wheel, exhaustion and guilt warring with the tension in his body. He gathered the strength to get out of his car and stumble to his apartment door, and nearly had a heart attack at what he saw. 

Shawn was there, sitting on his couch, staring at him. Again. 

Lassiter felt a warm feeling in his chest, complicating the avalanche of guilt already there. He deserved whatever was going to come out of his mouth. He probably deserved a few punches and a public humiliation on par with what he put Shawn through earlier. Because yelling at him like that? It felt good. It was the rush of endorphins he was starving for, and anyone who had pushed his buttons too much would’ve gotten similar treatment. But it wasn’t just anyone, it was Shawn. 

He probably deserved to be dumped, just like he’d stupidly planned. Regret and guilt, thy name is Lassiter. 

“We need to chat, Lass.”

Lassiter sighed and locked the door behind him, moving to lean slightly on the wall. He ignored how the room blurred a bit around the edges, how his legs trembled with the thought of supporting him much longer. 

“You were right, it was the daughter, and the witnesses were in on it. Vick should have your check tomorrow.”

Shawn just nodded and brushed off the announcement. “Come on, sit,” he said instead, patting the cushion next to him.

“If you’re going to break up with me, do us both a favor and get it over with.” Lassiter shifted on his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Shawn so his eyes darted everywhere else. 

“Lassie - as if I would,” Shawn shook his head and leaned back on the couch. “Just come over here and sit for a second?” 

He finally looked at Shawn and saw that he was just as tired, though the younger man was able to hide it better. He walked over to the couch and sat, not too close to his… what was Shawn to him, now? Lassiter shook off the thought and focused.

“I know it’s just words, but I am sorry for what I said today. There’s no excuse.” Lassiter forced the words from his mouth, hating the taste of them. 

Shawn absorbed the comment visibly, breathing in and nodding his head. “I need to know why you... did that this afternoon. I have a pretty good idea, but I’d like to hear it from you.” 

“There’s no good answer or justification. I was stressed, exhausted, hungry, and I -” he cut himself off. “I’m just sorry, Shawn. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Well for not meaning it, Lassie, you sure hit the nail on the head. You yell-listed like five of my top ten insecurities, so if that was improvising, color me impressed.” 

Lassiter winced and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. That was another level of dick that he’d reached. He felt Shawn move beside him, settling back into the couch. Now or never, time for the truth, and he would face it like a man. Lassiter straightened up and turned on the couch to face Shawn. 

“I didn’t improvise. Those were all things I was using to try and convince myself to break up with you. But they’re the best parts about you - they’re how you work, they’re why you’re so brilliant.” Lassiter waited a beat, absorbing the hurt in Shawn’s eyes. He caused that. “I didn’t mean them, Shawn,” he said emphatically. “I twisted all your strengths against you, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.” 

Shawn let out a hum and Lassiter watched his gaze unfocus as he retreated inside his head. 

Lassiter tried to be completely honest. “I was so caught up in how much this… relationship would hurt when it ended, I tried to sabotage it. Bring it to some easy end where we could go back to being friends instead of enemies like every other ex I have. I just… I can’t bear that.”

Shawn tucked his head and readjusted his arms across his chest protectively. Lassiter waited for whatever came next - an argument, a fight, even watching Shawn get up and leave. But he was surprised when Shawn just asked a question.

“That… makes a lot of sense. Why you’ve been acting not Lassie-like lately.” Shawn’s eyes darted up to his quickly, then back to his lap. “Do you want this to end?” 

“It should,” he replied quickly. “It will.”

“But do you _want_ it to?”

Lassiter let a beat pass as he considered the question. Did he want this to end? He imagined the absence of Spencer from his life - no more pancakes with weird ingredients in the morning, no more odd bedtime rituals with made-up prayers to the Pineapple God, no more abandoning eighties movies in favor of making out like teenagers. 

No more Shawn being there and letting him just… be there with him. 

“No, I don’t,” he answered. “I really don’t.”

Shawn relaxed by degrees, nodding his head and looking determined. Lassiter tensed. 

“Then we’re in agreement.” Shawn slapped his knees as punctuation. 

Lassiter gaped. “What?” he asked dumbly. 

“What _what_ , Lassie? You apologized, I accepted, let’s keep on keepin’ on!” 

Shawn leaped up from the couch, bounced into the kitchen, then started digging through cabinets. Lassiter turned and watched him from the couch, his confusion showing clearly on his face. That was way too easy. Wasn’t this supposed to be a fight? He had treated Shawn like shit for days, and now he was just over it?

“Popcorn, Lassie? Or do you need something more real-food like? Did you eat after I left today?”

Still confused from the abrupt change in mood, and not quite trusting it, Lassiter answered distractedly. “I was too busy.”

“No wonder you’re still a grump!” Lassiter watched as Shawn spun around and opened the fridge. “Leftover orange chicken it is! Cold or hot?”

“Uh,” Lassiter replied smartly. 

“Cold it is - you’re so right Lass, no one needs tough chicken on a night like this.” Shawn nearly skipped over to the couch, kissed Lassiter’s forehead and handed him a container of orange chicken and a fork, then spun back to the kitchen. “Take off your shoes and stay a while! It is your house, after all.” 

Shawn pulled a bag of popcorn from his shelf and put it in the microwave, bouncing slightly in place as the kernels started. Lassiter sat back into the couch and stared at the chicken in his hand for a second until his stomach rumbled. He started eating, his brain still lagging behind. What was happening, exactly?  
  
Every fight he’d ever had in a romantic relationship either ended it or made things tense and complicated for days. But he wasn’t sensing any tension from Shawn - aside from his usual energy levels. Was there another shoe about to drop?

The popcorn finished popping and Shawn came back to the couch, large bowl in hand, and flopped down close next to Lassiter, who leaned into his side without thinking. Shawn found the remote, but didn’t turn on the TV. 

“For the record, Carlton,” Shawn paused, causing Lassiter to look at him concerned. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice all of this - how bad you were feeling today and what’s been going on recently. We should probably talk through all the feels and concerns and whatnot soon, make a real night of it, but right now I just want to sit next to my boyfriend who I care about a lot and watch a movie. Sound good?”

Lassiter measured the truth in his voice and face, and something deep in his chest warmed. No one had cared for him like this on a good day - making sure he was comfortable and fed at the end of a hard case. Much less after he’d been an absolute ass to them for days. 

“Yeah, Shawn. Sounds good.”

Shawn smiled and leaned in for a kiss, mixing the saltiness of his popcorn with Lassiter’s cold orange chicken. Lassiter kissed him back, feeling more settled and at peace than he had in weeks. 

They broke apart softly and Shawn clicked on the TV. “Tonight’s masterpiece is 1987’s _Moonstruck_ , starring none other than a dashing young Nic Cage with a wooden hand and the fabulous, surprisingly talented in the acting sector, Cher!”

Lassiter rolled his eyes but sat back, slinging his arm around Shawn’s shoulders and listening to “That’s Amore” play as the opening credits played. 

\- - -

“Talking about it soon” in Shawn-speak apparently meant avoiding the subject forever. Lassiter knew that he had hurt Shawn with what he said and what he’d thought. By trying to protect himself by pushing Shawn away, he ended up being an ass to him in the worst way. 

How had Shawn put it? _You yell-listed like five of my top ten insecurities, so if that was improvising, color me impressed._ Yeah, he was a bastard, and Shawn deserved more than just dropping the subject and moving on. 

If Lassiter was going to put trust and commitment into their relationship, he also needed to grow a pair and talk through his apology. Thinking back, Shawn had said more to apologize than he did, and it wasn’t even his fault. 

Lassiter realized then that Shawn had been the one doing all the smoothing over and adapting in their relationship. When he started backing away, Shawn didn’t get angry - he just followed him without question. When Lassiter insulted him at the station, Shawn was the one to walk away and de-escalate the situation. Shawn was the one to figure out what was wrong with Lassiter, make him admit his true feelings, and accept his half-apology with no more than a smile and turning on a movie. 

Shawn was too good for him, and Lassiter had to do something about it. Not only to appease the heavy maw of guilt in his chest, but to close the rift that would only get worse if he did as Shawn wanted and left it alone. 

He went through a marriage like that. He and Victoria slighted each other time and time again, with nothing more than hollow apologies and dropped arguments keeping their marriage together. If Shawn and him were going to try at this long-term, he couldn’t repeat his mistakes.

Lassiter got his chance to corner Shawn that weekend, after the robbery paperwork and processing was officially done and he had a rare full two days off. 

Shawn was busy all of Saturday doing “shenanigans with Gus,” his words, which gave ample time for Lassiter to relax and get things done that he’d been putting off. 

He changed the bed, did a few loads of laundry, went out for groceries, and picked up his drycleaning. He even vacuumed the accumulated popcorn bits around the couch, did his regular household gun maintenance, and got to listen to his favorite radio station all day, uninterrupted. 

It felt disturbingly like he was single again, but knowing that Shawn was coming over that night gave him a sense of calm and purpose. Part of the mess he cleaned up was Shawn’s after all. A stack of DVDs, leftovers in the fridge, even some laundry. Lassiter was only a little surprised when he realized there were enough of Shawn’s clothes in his laundry for a few days, and he cleaned out a drawer to put them in with a smile. 

At receiving a text confirming that Shawn would “b ovr 4 dinner <3,” Lassiter got to work in the kitchen, using his minimal skills in cooking to start a simple pasta dish with garlic bread and sauce made from scratch. A real sit-down dinner; a real chance to talk. 

It’s not like Lassiter was suddenly the perfect partner. He was more than hesitant to bring up all of his shitty behavior to Shawn again, and so soon. But he had a bad feeling about just… letting it go. 

If he let it go, it would eventually come back up. He’d already felt it sitting in the hollow, painful area behind his sternum that was full of regrets and guilt. 

He can’t live like that with Shawn. Because it won’t last - it’ll build and build and an explosive argument with Shawn won’t end happily. It’ll end because Lassiter really, actually pushed him away. 

\- - -

“Shawn, listen,” Lassiter started. They were eating pasta on the couch, a compromise he made for Shawn’s hatred of a dinner table. It wasn’t like Lassiter was used to eating at his table anyway. He usually used it for paperwork or cleaning his guns, but that was beside the point.

Shawn paused his chewing, mouth mostly full of noodles. Lassiter was pleased to see him enjoying the meal, but this was his chance to talk. “Wuh, th’non sn’d goo, L’ssie.”

“Swallow and try again, please.” Lassiter set his half-empty plate on the coffee table and turned to face Shawn more directly.

“Okay, ignoring a ‘swallow’ joke here. I said, that doesn’t sound good, Lassie.” Shawn wiped his mouth. “You gonna break up with me again?” 

The question was meant to sound like a joke, but Lassiter saw the look in Shawn’s eyes. “No, no I’m not. But I want to talk about that.”

Shawn scrunched his face dramatically in confusion. “About breaking up?” 

“No,” Lassiter sighed. This already wasn’t going well. “About me trying to break up with you.”

“We’re good, Lassie.” Shawn tucked his head and stabbed more pasta on his fork, but didn’t bring it up to his mouth yet. “All in the past.”

“It’s not though, Shawn. It’s still hovering over us, and we need to talk about it so it doesn’t hurt us in the future.” A week ago, even admitting to wanting a future with Shawn would’ve been impossible for Lassiter, but his screw up made him realize a few things. Important things. 

“Listen, Lassie,” Shawn said in a mocking tone and set his plate down on the coffee table. “All that the last weeks have taught us is that you don’t think I’m trustworthy.” Shawn paused, leaving Lassiter to gape at his tone of honesty. 

It sounded like resignation.

“Shawn-” 

“No, no. I get it. You probably thought I would run or cheat on you or something.” Shawn squirmed in his seat like he was fighting the urge to get up and run away. Instead, he twisted and grabbed the throw pillow from the end of the couch and hugged it, his natural defense. “I don’t have a stellar track record there, and you already know most of my relationships don’t last past one night.”

“We have,” Lassiter interjected. “We have, and I’m not exactly a shining example of a good relationship history either. Which is why we can’t just let this go.”

“You sound like a therapist.”

Lassiter shifted, slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not _not_ using things I learned in marriage counseling here. But it’s because I don’t want this to end like my marriage did.”

Shawn lifted his eyebrow then relaxed minutely. “Alright. Let’s have it.”

“The way I acted, trying to push you away without even talking through my... concerns, it was wrong of me. I was… scared.” That admission hurt Lassiter like he was back in therapy again, being forced to talk about his _feelings_. But Shawn was worth it. 

Shawn shrugged. “You’ve been hurt before.”

“So have you.”

“Nah, I usually ran before the hurt could happen. If the relationship was even worth running from. Which, again,” Shawn gestured between the two of them, “new territory here.”

Lassiter thought briefly that he was right, that Shawn would’ve run from him. Then he immediately felt guilty because he and Shawn were just the same. They’d both been hurt and they were both afraid it would happen again. “Were you thinking of running from me?” Lassiter forced out. 

A few beats of silence went by before Shawn responded. Lassiter hoped he was taking it seriously, but Shawn hadn’t run yet. He was sitting, forgoing the distraction of his dinner, even, to talk this out. Maybe he was just as serious about this. 

“Not gonna lie, yeah. More than once.”

Lassiter blinked, blindsided at the admittance. But Shawn kept talking. 

“But I didn’t run, Lassie. I wanted to, but I stayed instead. I even stayed when you were really obviously trying to push me away.”

“Why?” he asked, trying not to be hurt. “Why did you want to run?

“Because I like you too much,” Shawn said.

“Too much?”

“Yeah, Lassie.” Shawn hugged the pillow tightly, then looked at Lassiter like he was begging him to let it drop. 

_He liked him too much_. Lassiter was trying to connect the dots in his head, because to him the math didn’t add up. “You like me too much, so you wanted to run, but instead of that you stayed here.” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes no sense.”

“Love doesn’t make sense Lassie.”

No, _now_ he was blindsided. Love? Shawn… he _loved_ him? 

Shawn made no attempt at eye contact, clutching the pillow in a death grip at his admission. “I don’t make sense, Lassie. This relationship doesn’t make sense - at least on paper. Which is why I was so freaked out when we started, and freaked out enough to run, but it makes sense to me now.”

Lassiter blinked, his mind swimming in slow motion.

“It’s all give and take, Lassie. And then you got freaked too and tried to upset the balance we had going, but even that didn’t work. You… you yelled horrible things that I hope you don’t think are true -”

Lassiter snapped back into focus at that and interrupted him. “They aren’t true -”

“And that I’ve thought about myself anyway -”

“Shawn -” Lassiter moved closer to Shawn on the couch, seeing that he was going toward a full spiral. He put his hands on Shawn’s leg and shoulder, trying to ground him and get his attention as he kept talking.

“But I still don’t want to run because we’re…” Shawn tensed up, trying to find words. “We’re simpatico, Lassie. You and me, like carrots and jello.” 

“What?” Lassiter shook his head. “No, Shawn, listen -”

“It’s weird and a little funky but it works for some people, and we’re those some people, but we gotta _let_ it work, ya know? Go with the flow of the whatever and not run and see where it all goes and -”

“Shawn I love you too,” Lassiter said, knowing the moment he said it that it was true.

The pillow gave up its fight and died, crushed in Shawn’s arms. 

“You’re right.” It was Lassiter’s turn to talk. “I panicked and my first response was to push you away so I didn’t have to deal with the fallout. I was scared to… go with it. I still am, I think. Because every relationship I’ve had, from even a hint of one to my marriage, they all ended like a train wreck. It’s all I see in my job, in my family, everywhere. It’s all I’ve come to expect.”

“Lassie,” Shawn started, but his voice was scratchy and he cleared it. “Lassie. All those bad endings led to this good thing.”

Something in his words triggered Lassiter’s mind to reset. He was reeling, his world tilting on its axis. _He was loved_ . _He wasn’t alone anymore._

Lassiter had never been one to trust others, just, in general. People were by and large not good to each other - they hurt their loved ones and complete strangers alike. The bond of a family meant nothing when it came to personal ego and belief, and contrary to what the Hallmark channel wanted you to believe, love _was,_ usually, conditional. 

Love’s very existence had always counted on a set of invisible rules. Mothers loved their children as long as they behaved. Partners loved their significant others as long as they didn’t cheat, as long as they held up their end of the deal. People loved themselves in public and hated themselves in private, unable to live up to their own standards. 

Shawn loved him because… 

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? If his central fear, as he just discovered, was ultimately rejection, then why was Shawn still here?

“Why?” The word escaped his mouth without permission, but Lassiter followed the word’s intent and asked again. “Why do you love me?”

Shawn flailed backward, a blush appearing on his face without comment. “Let me count the ways,” he laughed awkwardly, suddenly still. “I… This is embarrassing, Lassie. You’re strong and tough and manly, but I know deep down you’re compassionate. You care about what you do, Lassie,” he shrugged defensively. “You care and I love you for it. For you.”

Lassiter was taken aback, feeling split in half over wanting to trust him and denying that he was worth it all. Worth his love. 

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re drop dead gorgeous either,” Shawn concluded, tilting his head and shining a smile up at Lassiter. 

That was it. Not his joke, but the look in Shawn’s eyes… it was honest. As honest as he’s ever been, and it was all directed at Lassiter. Maybe…. maybe this wouldn’t end in gut-wrenching despair after all. 


End file.
